


Folie à Redux

by BloodMooninSpace



Series: Sit on a Cactus, Brock Rumlow [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Coercive Relationship, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dom/sub, Humbler, M/M, Rape By Deception, Rough Sex, Sounding, face-slapping, unsafe bdsm practices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19825957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodMooninSpace/pseuds/BloodMooninSpace
Summary: Steve wants to feel that cracked open feeling again, to feel alive here in this fucking century.Brock Rumlow has a Honeypot mission and gets to be a little vicious along the way.





	Folie à Redux

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Folie à Redux](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20240761) by [eccentricc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentricc/pseuds/eccentricc)



> Forgive any remaining mistakes, they are 100% my own.

Steve knocks on the door of Rumlows apartment. He wants to feel like he did a couple of days ago, waking up and getting a kiss goodbye from Rumlow before he went to work.

When Rumlow answers the door, Steve leans in for a kiss. He gets a fleeting press of lips, and then he is pushed back, and his cheek is stinging before he realizes that Rumlow was going to slap him. 

"You will ask before you touch your dom, slut." 

Steve feels his cheeks heat, and he knows he's turning pink. His Irish complexion is prone to violent blushes. 

"So slut, what would you like?" The question is warm and fond, and Steve can feel the heat and want pooling in his gut. 

"I want you. I want kisses, and I want to-- " Steve bites back the last words. Rumlow slaps him again, and Steve can feel his dick getting hard, his nipples pebbling under his workout shirt. 

"Finish what you were saying."

Steve takes a deep breath and speaks again. "I want to be your good slut again."

Rumlow yanks Steve forward by his shirt, and Steve's mouth is taken in a brutal kiss. Rumlow is hard and demanding, and there's a scrape of teeth and a few nips -- and when Steve is pushed back, he is breathless and dazed and feels amazing. 

"What are you craving, slutty sweetheart, what got you here and so desperate you forgot to ask for what you needed?"

Steve is at a loss, does he just ask for what he was given last time? He didn’t even know most of that existed, or that it could be a sex thing. In the 40’s he had thought he had been pretty well versed on the breadth of sex, but Rumlow has already proven that wrong. Steve thinks he must look ridiculous, his mouth hanging open and he is trying to talk by the words won’t come.

He sees it coming, this time — the open-handed slap. Steve has enough time to think ‘thank fuck’ before the hand strikes his cheek. Then there is a hand in his hair, forcing his head back, so Steve is staring at the ceiling when Rumlow asks him again. 

“What are you looking for? I need a fucking answer, slut.”

Steve studies the smooth ceiling, the clear expanse of white, and gets out a semblance of an answer.

“I want the humbler, how it felt on my knees.”

“Is that all?” Rumlow’s voice is growly and amazing, and Steve wants to see his face, but he can’t with his head tipped back this way. 

“I want -- I didn’t know sex could be like that. I want more of that. I want to be good for you. I want to be on my knees for you, I want --” Steve gasps as Rumlows other hand cups Steves junk.

“Keep going sweet slut, the more I know about where your head is at, the better I can make it for you.”

Steve closes his eyes and keeps talking, anchored between the two points of Rumlows grip. 

“I didn’t know that pain could feel that good. I didn’t know I could want to come that much, and I didn’t know that being told I wasn’t allowed would make me feel that wanted. Saturday was amazing; it made me feel --” There is a tightening in his chest, and Steve doesn't want to keep talking, but it feels good that Rumlow is MAKING him. This feels important. “It made me feel like I was vulnerable and safe in my vulnerability. You made me feel desirable, and like it was okay to be small.”

Steve takes a deep breath and licks his lips before finishing what he was saying. 

“I liked how it felt, to be cracked open at your feet. I don’t know what to ask for, to get that again, but I’m hoping you will know what I’m asking for when I don’t even know what’s possible.”

* * *

Brock let himself feel smug. He had hoped that making Steve talk would give him something to work with, but what Steve just said is a treasure trove of workable material. 

“When I let go of you, you are going to get on your knees and crawl after me. For the rest of the night, I want to hear ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ if I ask you a direct question; otherwise, you can keep your comments to yourself. Understand?”

“Yessir.”

The words rush out of Rogers' mouth, eager and breathy. When Brock lets go of him and steps back, Steve hits the floor with a resounding CRACK and Brocks' knees ache a little in sympathy. Eager little slut indeed. 

Brock leads the way across his apartment, Steve crawling at his side. Brock wants to have a plan together by the time they get to the bedroom. Steve specifically asked for the humbler, which is a delightful surprise. The kid also asked to be cracked open, and for something he had never done before. This would be an excellent opportunity for a risk, something painful and humiliating. The kid likes it; there are more options on the table in the future. If he doesn't, plenty of petting and gentle words, cultivate the trust. A scene that goes badly can deepen a bond, for a sub with a praise kink, if the dom coddles them thoroughly in the aftercare. 

They reach the bedroom, and Brock pulls a coin out of his pocket and drops it. 

“Steve, I want you to press your forehead against that coin. I want enough pressure that when I have you sit back up in a few minutes, either the coin come with you, or I can read the text on your skin.” Brock watches the way Steve shudders, his eyelids fluttering, and a soft smile cracking over his face before he bends over. Yeah, Steve likes situational humiliation, in addition to being called a slut. That in mind, he walks behind Steves ass and kicks Steves ankles apart.

“Spread ‘em. And hold one wrist in your other hand behind your back.” Steve complies, but it could be deeper. Brock slaps that luscious ass before going to the closet. Brock gathers what he needs, and puts it on the cedar steamer trunk at the foot of the bed. Then he covers it neatly with lap blanket he keeps on the bed. Brock walks back over to Steve and just looks at him for a moment. Damn, life is good sometimes. 

Brock reaches down and hauls Steve up by his hair. The kids' eyes flutter, and Brock is again thankful that Steve likes hair-pulling this much. The coin sticks for a second, then drops, leaving a crystal clear imprint of an eagle on Steve's forehead. Damn, he didn’t even fidget; that's hot.

* * *

Steve’s eyes fly open when Rumlow drags him up by the hair, and the expression on Rumlows face nearly melts Steve's bones. He looks so  _ hungry _ , and he is looking down at Steve, which means that all that hunger is for Steve. Seeing that hunger makes Steve want to be good, the best -- perfect. 

Steve arches his back so he can lean into the hand in his hair, and shivers when that makes Rumlow pull tighter. 

“I love what an eager slut you are Steve. You look so good on your knees for me.” Rumlow slaps Steve again, and again, and it seems to make the whole room bright. He can’t move into it, or away from it, not with Rumlows left hand buried in his hair. 

The strikes have been more sound than impact until Steve feels his head tilted, and he sees Rumlow’s pecs flex -- it cracks across his face, and Steve is sure he’s got a handprint on his cheek now. 

“Yeah, so pretty when you take it for me.” 

Steve watches the muscles flex again, and he has a moment of confusion when Rumlow lets go of his hair, and then his face lights up, a soft sweet fire, as he goes sprawling. 

“Good boy.” Rumlow sounds so proud of him that Steve can’t help but smile up at him. 

“Now strip and get on the bed.”

Steve starts to get to his feet, but Rumlow knocks him over by planting his foot on Steve's shoulder and shoving. 

“Stay on your knees for me.” 

Steve can feel his face burning, but he does it, and it adds a layer to the task. It’s harder to get his clothes off, and he is more aware of the fact that Rumlow is just standing there, watching. Steve is reminded of what he just said to Rumlow, about being on his knees, and being cracked open. Steve feels a well of emotion, and he feels so heard. It is intense to pull his pants off while sitting bare ass to the floor, with Rumlow towering, and watching. 

Steve is naked, and he starts to crawl towards the bed when Rumlow shoves him over again. Steve shivers, watching Rumlow put his foot back on the floor. 

“Don’t leave a mess like that. Fold them in a pile. You could even put the pile up against the wall. I like my room clean.”

Steve ducks his head, gathers the clothes all together in a bundle and holds them in one arm as he crawls over to the wall. He takes his time to fold them neatly, pants on the bottom of the stack, socks and underwear, then his shirt on top. 

Steve looks up to Rumlow’s face when he is done. Rumlow smirks, and nods, then jerks his head at the bed. 

Steve feels like he is a gangly scramble in his haste to get on the bed, but Rumlow gives his ass a quick smack while it is sticking up in the air. Steve freezes and looks over his shoulder. He watches, his breath racing, as Rumlow gropes his ass, and then grinds his crotch against Steves naked behind. 

Steve groans, long and drawn out because he can feel how hard Rumlow is, and it is flattering to know how turned on he is making the other man. 

* * *

As much as Brock would like to just drop his fly and fuck Steve right here right now, he has plans for this scene. Brock lets go of Steve and reaches under the blanket. Steve is on his hands and knees when Brock trails the end of the humbler down Steve's spine. Steve twitches and shudders in such a gratifying way, even before Brock uses the keys to open the locks. The locking bolts are better than the screws, faster to put on and faster to take off, he just has to keep track of the keys. 

“You ready for it, Steve, for me to put the humbler on you and effectively tether you to my bed?”

“Yes, sir, please, sir!” Steve arches his back, pushing his ass further into the air, and spreading his knees. Brock is pleased with how easy it is to reach for Steves balls and give them a tug. 

Steve keens. That's the only word for it. Brock turns the key in each lock and drops the bolts and padlocks on the bed between Steve's knees. 

Steve holds so still while Brock fits him with the humbler, it is beautiful. Getting the bolts and the locks in the humbler, without dropping anything or pinching Steve’s balls unintentionally is a feat that would get him a ‘nice work’ from more experienced subs, or a shuddery ‘well done.’ It is always nice to have his competence noticed, but then again --

Brock leans down and sucks on Steves balls. Steve jerks, the muscles in his legs going tense and firm beside Brocks face, then he stills. It is a forced, careful stillness. Brock pulls back and blows, and it is beautiful to watch Steve’s taught thigh muscles twitch while he fights to hold still. Brock rolls the couple of pubic hairs together, then scrapes them off his tongue. He might have to wax Steve if he wants to keep putting his mouth on the man. 

Brock fishes the vibrating plug, and lube, out from under the blanket. He doesn't feel like being super careful with the prep would be a good idea right now, not if he wants to get sincere reactions to what he has planned -- and he just plain doesn't want to get lube on his hands yet. So Brock drizzles lube straight onto Steves asshole and then presses with the plug. Brock has to hold Steves tailbone down with the hand holding the lube because Steve tries to move his ass up and hisses when that tugs at the humbler. 

Brock alternates adding lube and shoving it in with the blunt tip of the plug. Steve starts making all these great little noises, desperate and whiney. 

“Just push it in already, please!” Steve whines, sharp and demanding. That won’t do, that won’t do at all. 

Brock snaps the lube shut and drops the bottle. Then he grabs the humbler, and tugs. Steve shifts back, and Brock holds the plug steady while pulling Steve back onto the plug by the balls. He whines and makes it halfway on before a rough sob escapes him. Brock shoves the plug the rest of the way, letting go of the humbler, and grabbing Steve's hips. 

“There was a rule about what you could say, slut. And you just broke it. That will be five to start.” Brock grabs the thin silicone paddle from under the blanket and holds the handle steady in one hand while bending back the paddle with the other. Bend and release, bend and release; all five strikes in rapid succession, all landing squarely on Steves balls.

Steve sobs on four and is snuffling when Brock stops, and his balls look an angry, painful red. 

“There now.” Brock rubs the paddle against Steves balls, prodding an amazing little whine out of him. “All’s forgiven. Let’s not let your bad behavior ruin our fun.” 

* * *

Steve bites the bedsheets to avoid speaking out of turn again. He wants to apologize, he didn’t mean to be bad, he didn’t -- he didn’t --

“Let go.” Rumlow's hand is at his jaw, forcing Steve to stop biting the duvet. “Do you need a gag to help you be good?”

Steve nods, and when he says, “Yes, sir.” It sounds broken and needy to his own ears. He watches Rumlow walk over to the closet, and hunt around for the gag. 

When Rumlow returns to the bed, it's with a weird looking gag. The metal part has two switchbacks and is flat. When Rumlow puts it in his mouth, the switchbacks wrap around his cheeks, and it holds his tongue down well into his mouth. Not so far back that he's choking on it, but it is impossible to ignore. Steve can feel when Rumlow does, and then undoes and  _ tightens _ the buckle behind his head, and then there is a click, and Steve knows that click. Brock just locked the gag on. Steve reaches up to touch it, and sure enough, there is a luggage lock just past the buckle. 

“Knew I still had more for you,” Rumlow says. 

Steve waits, his heart racing and his mouth-watering, while Rumlow brings a few more things over to the bed. Rumlow buckles cuffs on Steve's thighs, and wrists, then locks Steves wrists behind his back. Steve holds still while rope is laced around his arms, and it gets tighter as the tie climbs towards his elbows. When Steve's elbows are touching behind his back, Rumlow ties it off, and Steve feels gloriously vulnerable. 

“Come on, crawl around.” Rumlow guides him as Steve haltingly turns on his knees until he is facing Rumlow. 

* * *

Brock loves the way Steve looks right now. Steve’s face is all over apprehension, and nerves, and yearning. Brock wants to ruin him. He flicks the blanket off the cedar chest and grabs one of the last things still sitting there, and not already on Steve. He clips the short spreader bar to one of the thigh cuffs, then the other, forcing Steves knees further apart, and extending the bar as far as he can. 

Steve wobbled, making the most delicious whimper as he fought to steady himself again. 

“Atta boy. Look at you, what a beautiful slut, all pinned down and ready to play with.”

Steve manages to fucking smile at that, his soft sweet sunshine smile broken up by the custom bit gag. 

Brock grabs the last piece that is going on Steve, a harsh pair of adjustable alligator nipple clamps. Brock rolls and pinches the first nipple, the one on Steve’s right. Brock stores them screwed all the way out, so when he snaps it onto Steves nipple, Brock is treated to a symphony of Aaaa-aaaaa-aaaa as he turns the tensioner knob and cranks it tighter. When the groans break into a yelp, Brock notes the position and turns it ¾ of a crank looser. 

Steves other nipple is already pebbled and ready, so Brock just snaps on the alligator clamp, and enjoys the way that all the noises are reedier and more pained, Steve already being primed to the hurt. Brock stops the screw in the same place and lets Steve sit with them for a minute. Brock snags the connector chain, and pulls the nipple clamps he starts with a long slow tug upwards until Steve is sagging back to relieve the pressure on his balls at the cost of his nipples. Steves whimper is broken, and ragged, and perfect. 

Brock opens them one and then the other, letting the blood rush back, so it hurts more when the clamp bites shut again. He lets himself get lost in it, the whimpering and the squirming, just for a minute --

A wet sob rends the air, and Brock sees that Steve's eyes are watering, tears on the verge of spilling over. Shit, he might have taken it a little far for this early in the scene. Damage recovery time.

Brock takes one off and sucks Steves left nipple, soothing with his mouth. He repeats the process on Steve’s right side, letting the nipple clamps drop to the bed. 

Brock lifts his head up to kiss Steve, kiss him sweetly even with the gag in the way. 

“What a good slut, taking what I give you. You ready to take some more for me?” Brock says the words right into Steve's mouth, looking Steve in the eyes, their foreheads together. Prolonged eye contact stimulates bonding hormones. 

Steve nods, a tentative little bobble of his head. Brock leans back, kissing Steves nose as he draws away. Brock reaches down, fishes out his phone, and hits the power button in the app. Steve arches and writhes as the plug kicks on and Brock grabs Steves dick and rubs his thumb over Steves cockhead. Steve shakes like he is trying to come in a matter of minutes, under the dual onslaught of the sensations. 

“Good boy, good boy, I’ll give you everything you need, crack you open so good, protect you while you’re mine. That’s it, That’s it --” Brock knows all the right words to say. Anyone who pays attention would, so-called active listening is mostly just parroting anyway. 

Brock grabs the last thing off the cedar chest. It is an unassuming little black case, about the size of an average cigar box. Brock has a little thrill of glee, knowing that nobody could have ever done this with Steve, to Steve before. Brock opens and sets the case beside and behind Steve's knee, beyond Steves easy sight, and unrolls the fabric that holds his sounds in place. 

Brock removes the first, and folds the roll back over, setting it back in the case. Its the smallest, perfect to start Steve off with. Brock looks down at his phone and smiles when he sees that the vibrator has finished the pattern he set for it to open with, and has dropped to a steady buzz. 

Steve is halfway to subspace, or further, and is going to be held in a state of arousal but the plug. This is gonna be fun. 

* * *

Steve looks at the thin metal rod, with the little bulb at the tip, and he doesn't get it. Thinking is getting hard; he is feeling so much right now. 

“You’re gonna take it for me so good, aren't you, Steve?” 

Steve tries to say ‘yes, sir,’ and he hopes the Rumlow understands. The gag makes talking almost impossible, which was kind of the point. Good job, gag. 

Rumlow opens the lube, puts some on the bulb of the little metal rod, then some on the head of Steves dick. Steve tries to make sense of what is happening, he watches as Rumlow lifts the small rod, swirls the bulb and the lube right at the tip of Steve dick, and then slides it in and out of the slit. Just, in and out, not even getting to the thickest part. 

Steve is equal parts horrified and fascinated, and it feels weirdly good. Rumlow moves his hand, so his wrist is holding Steves dick to his belly, and the fingers of the same hand are holding the little rod, and its an awfully complicated position to take unless --

Steve watches with trepidation as Rumlow picks up the nipple clamps again. Steve closes his eyes and sucks in a heavy breath. Then there is fire in his nipples, first one, then the other. When Steve opens his eyes and looks down, he is flabbergasted to see that the little metal rod seems to be a solid inch into his dick. Steve whimpers and he fights for air because it makes no sense. That hole is so small, how does anything fit in there?

Steve watches as Rumlow works his fingers around the head of Steves dick, and the sensations are vast and confusing. All Steve can feel is sparks of pleasure from his dick and the fire in his chest. But it makes no sense!

Steve is horrified at the noise that escapes him when Rumlow pulls it out, and then adds more lube and slides the little rod in further, and further. Steve sounds so crass, like an animal in the woods!

* * *

Steve sounds  _ wrecked,  _ and Brock is loving it. Brock keeps adding lube and fucking Steves dick with the littlest sound until it is fully seated as deep as it probably should go. Steve's eyes are huge, his breathing is heavy, and he is making the most wonderful confused and wounded noises through it all. 

Steve is trembling, and Rumlow steadies the sound with his left hand and reaches up to cup Steves jaw with his right. 

“Come on, that's it, my sweet, sweet slut, just take what I’m giving you. Relax into it, let me have your body to play with, and I’ll bring you along for the ride.” 

Steve started nodding when Brock called him a slut and kept nodding through to the end, relaxing by degrees. Brock let go of Steve's face and reached down. The next part was a two-handed trick.

Brock wrapped his left hand around Steves shaft, just barely firm enough to add some pressure, and used his right hand to draw the sound in and out in long strokes. Steve made a raucous noise, and then another as Brock used the sound massage Steves dick from the inside. A few more careful strokes and Brock pauses, watching Steve pant heavily. Steves dick twitches in his hand, and Brock chuckles. Steve's eyes have fallen shut, but when Brock reaches up and twists one of the nipple clamps, they fly open, wet with unshed tears. Steve’s snotty whimper is thready but heartfelt, and Brock twists the clamp again, and the tears fall. 

Steve sobs and Brock lets go of his nipple, reaching instead for his phone, kicking the plug up to a more intense pattern. Brock alternates little thrusts with the sound and tormenting Steves nipples until Steve is shaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. Brock pulls the sound free and sets it down on the bed by the case.

Brock gets a little lube on his hand and sets about jacking Steves dick steadily. Under his relentless hand, Steve comes and then thrashes when Brock just keeps jacking him through it. Steve doesn’t have much range of motion, but he twists and bucks as Brock keeps his hand moving. 

Steve makes garbled noises that sound like ‘please’ and Brock keeps going as the dick in his hand slowly, steadily, turns and angry red. Steve eventually tips forward to lean on Brock, his head dropping to Brocks' shoulder. Brock looks down Steves back, to where Steve's hands are rhythmically clenching, then bites the flesh of Steves trapezius. 

Steve whines and Brock keeps his hand moving over Steves dick, even as Steve thrashes and whimpers. Steve heaves a few big breaths, and Brock shoves him back to balance. Steve lists to the side and crashes to the bed. Brock’s arm gets briefly caught between Steve's knees before Brock gets Steve rolled onto his back, pinning his arms to the bed. When Steve relaxes his abs, and his knees start to move away from his chest, he whines at the tugging in his balls from the humbler. Brock reaches and strokes Steve's dick again. Steve pulls his knees up towards his chest and tries to close them, but Brock has better leverage and keeps working Steves dick as his breath hitches, and he comes again. 

Brock grabs the shaft of Steve's dick and rubs the pad of his thumb over the head and slit while reaching for the chain connecting the nipple clamps with his other hand. Brock flicks his thumb as fast as he can and pulls upward. Steve goes wild, thrashing hard enough that one of the nipple clamps pulls free. When Steve finally stills, Brock gently removes the other nipple clamp, and with one last caress, lets go of Steve's dick. 

Brock efficiently strips Steve of the gag and humbler and turns off the plug. Instead of removing it right away, Brock tugs it partway out, then pushes it back in a few times, until Steve’s eyes fly open and he is looking at Brock. 

"Please! Do it please." Steve sounds so raw as he says the words, who is Brock to resist?

Brock undoes his belt and tugs, Steve, so his ass is hanging off the bed, and removes the plug, tossing it just out of reach. Steve whimpers prettily when Brock’s dick pushes into his ass, and Brock loves the wet heat of Steve's ass around him. It gets even better when he gets a hand on Steve's dick again, the clench of startled tension, just enough lube to keep it good for Brock. 

"Please? Please?" Steve whines the words and Brock chuckles.

“That’s it; you can have my dick, there you go.” Brock makes an effort to keep his voice warm and kind and sees Steve preen in result. "Good grief you're such a slut, you've already come twice, and you're begging me to fuck you. What a fucking slut." 

Steve is so out of it that Brock lets himself take what he wants, leaning in and biting Steve while rutting his ass. Steve makes a glorious symphony of pained noises, squirming in Brocks' arms. 

It has been a while since he got to fuck someone like this, a wriggling athletic body, moaning in pain while Brock chases his own orgasm -- nothings better.

Except it is better, because this isn't some random fuck -- this is Captain Fucking America. Steve Rogers, with his big blue eyes and that innocent smile. These are super serum thighs spread for him, and the pecs his teeth are marking up have decorated bedrooms across the world.

"It hurts," Steve says when Brock bites over a bruise he had left a couple of minutes ago.

"You're pretty in pain, Steve."

"I can take it." The words are a little bit slurred, Steve has gone limp in his arms, and Brock needs just a little more -- Brock takes Steves nipple between his teeth, pinches, and pulls. Steve squeals and wriggles, and Brock comes. 

He stays close to Steve for several long moments, their breathing loud in the stillness. 

“You are one helluva good fuck, Steve.” Brock watches Steves blush heat his cheeks, and drop beneath his collarbone. “Let's get cleaned up.”

Brock unbuckles the cuffs from Steve's legs, and Steve whimpers in pain as he extends his cramped legs. Brock massages the blood flow back into Steve's legs before rolling Steve onto his belly and untying the ropes on his arms. Brock works his fingers into Steve's arms from shoulders to wrists, receiving a dopey smile from Steve for his trouble. 

“Come on, shower time.”

Brock and his armful of supersoldier make it into the shower, and Brock makes sure they both get clean. Steve is clingy, and more than a little bit out of it, but that's okay. Honeypot missions take time and often have a mix of enjoyable and tedious time with the target. 

Brock gets them out of the shower, and dry. Steve hangs off him while Brock strips the bed and throws the sheets into the laundry machine in the hall closet. He and Steve end up on the couch watching a spaghetti western until Steve ducks out and heads home. 

After Steve leaves, Brock opens his laptop and plugs into his CCTV. A cursory check of the files shows that he got great coverage of tonight.

  
  



End file.
